


This Is Not a Dream

by Knight_Perzival



Category: Banana Fish (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Angst, Ash Lynx is Scared of Pumpkins, Banana Fish Ending Fix-It, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, M/M, Nightmares, Rape Recovery, and because ash deserves better, ash is comforted after a nightmare, because eiji is a sweetheart
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-12
Updated: 2021-01-12
Packaged: 2021-03-17 06:16:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 887
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28720305
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Knight_Perzival/pseuds/Knight_Perzival
Summary: Ash has a nightmare at his and Eiji's apartment in Japan. Eiji, being the kind soul he is, comforts Ash (even if there is a bit of pumpkin-themed teasing involved).
Relationships: Ash Lynx/Okumura Eiji
Comments: 4
Kudos: 100





	This Is Not a Dream

**Author's Note:**

> This is solely trying to fix the empty spot where my heart used to be! I hope you enjoy :)

It doesn’t always start like this. Sometimes, the prying fingers are already far beneath his rusting belt buckle and, in the worst nightmares, even deeper than that. But tonight, the hands start on his thighs. 

It still makes his skin crawl, makes his breath die in his throat. _Training, experience—draw from that. Rely on that. This is nothing. Nothing._

But it’s always something, this. How could it not be? How can something worth 20,000 dollars be nothing? That much money weighs enough to suffocate a man, even one as resilient as Ash. Even if no one’s paying this time. No one, that is, except for him and his soul. If that much money can smother a simple man, what must it be able to do to a soul?

He’s not Dino’s anymore. He doesn’t have to play along. He doesn’t have to pretend. He can twist against the hands, not in pleasure but in defiance. In strength and protest and fucking _rage._ So he does. Ash’s throat aches with the power of it, with the drive becoming hot behind his ribcage, something strong enough to shatter the bones of whoever crosses him. Control wells up in his heart and he rushes forward, pushing through the dream like a demon. The man, his hands, they stutter against the soft skin of his inner thigh. The pads of his fingers clutch desperately, wrenching and painful, but it’s small. When you’re accustomed to pain, _small_ only means _practice._

It’s easy to ignore and Ash yanks up. The man’s hands jut against his skin, skidding up and up and over his boxers in a way that makes him flinch, but not falter. There’s no face. There’s never a face when Ash chooses violence over nightmares. Even his unconsciousness won’t give him the pleasure of revenge. It’s not Foxx, it’s never Dino. He can’t hurt the people who hurt him, only stand-ins.

So, emptiness stares back at him, a wash of peach and a shock of dark hair that stares and lurches listlessly at him. A featureless face that croons and begs and reaches for things that don’t belong to him. 

“Ash,” it always says. It speaks soundlessly, wordlessly. 

The bed creaks beneath them and Ash breathes heavily, tossing a curl of blond hair out of his eyes. Maybe Eiji was right—long locks aren’t great for fighting.

It won’t be the first time a nightmare ends in violence. He prefers that ending, all things considered. Better to be violent than to be a victim. Again. 

When the nameless, faceless stranger’s ribcage crumples underneath Ash’s fist, rough against his knuckles, he isn’t sure. 

“Ash,” it whimpers through his heavy breathing, his near-cries. 

“Ash!”

The pain in his knuckles vanishes and he shoots up, eyes wild and a blanket wrapped around his shoulders like a straight jacket. But then there’s something else. Something kind and warm and _his_ on his shoulder.

He traces his gaze from his shoulder, where a soft, uncalloused hand rests, to the face that it belongs to. Eiji. 

“Wasn’t even that bad,” Ash lies through his teeth, leaning into his shoulder as the blanket slips from his from. 

“Oh, so no pumpkins this time?” Eiji’s words are light but his voice is quiet and steady. It leaves no room for outs. Ash pushes him away half-heartedly. Leave it to him, to this sweet, caustic Japanese boy to coax a smile out of him _now_ of all times. 

“No, no pumpkins,” he agrees through tired teeth. “Woulda preferred the pumpkins, honestly.” 

“I know,” Eiji says now, and then he gathers him closer. “I know.”

The small light of their bedroom flickers in the corner and Ash makes a mental note to talk to their landlord tomorrow because that’s what he does. He compartmentalizes and he fixes things. Already, the ghost of that man’s fingers is leaving his body. Shivering, he burrows closer against Eiji’s warm body. 

“Do we have to turn up the thermostat?” Eiji whispers loudly. “I didn’t think the American would have this much trouble adjusting to Izumo’s temperatures. Wimp.”

“Hate you,” Ash mutters against the soft cotton of his pajama shirt. “Actually, this time.”

“Uh-huh,” Eiji agrees, carding a hand through Ash’s hair. “I know. Is that why you crawled into my bed after I fell asleep?”

“Yeah,” Ash latches on tiredly. “Vengence. Can’t have you falling asleep all on your lonesome.”

“Not when there are pumpkins to protect me from, right?” 

“What did I say about hating you?” 

The words are muffled terribly, but Ash knows Eiji heard what he really meant. _What did I say about loving you?_

“I have good news,” Eiji breathes against his neck. “There are definitely fewer pumpkins in Japan than in America.”

The laugh that bubbles up Ash’s throat is so much better than the rage of his nightmare.

“Now that is good news,” he concludes, folding against Eiji for good. “I know I’ll sleep better.”

“You deserve that,” Eiji murmurs, holding him close. “You deserve that.”

Ash can’t decide if he does before he drifts off once again, but for the first time since their arrival to Japan, he almost believes in it. With Eiji holding him, it’s easier.

And for the rest of the night, the only thing he dreams about is the boy holding him. 


End file.
